Penner advanced the video to 12:34 and let it play. After a minute of nothing, a figure came into the shot. He was wearing dark pants, boots and a hooded sweater which was blocking his face. He had a woman slung over his shoulder. Mrs. Jackson.
‘Damn. With that hood on, we can’t make out any facial features,’ said Millar leaning forward and staring at the screen. The figure walked out of view. ‘Can you rewind it and freeze when they’re mid-screen? I want to see if there are any identifiable markings on his clothes.’
Penner rewound the video and started it again, pausing when the figure was fully in view. The image stayed crisp. They all looked intently at the screen, trying to see anything that would help identify the person in the video.
‘Is it possible to enlarge the video?’ asked Penner. She wasn’t a very tech-y person.
‘Don’t think so, not with the software you’d have on that lap-top,’ Grant said. ‘Possibly someone in FIS or cyber crimes would have something we could use, but I’m not sure.’
‘Doesn’t really look like there are any logos or anything visible on his clothes, just a generic dark hoody,’ Millar said with disappointment. ‘Got to be hundreds, thousands of those in the city. Even I have one.’
‘Me, too,’ Penner said. ‘Let’s check out the other video.’ She closed the original video file and opened up the second one. The picture quality was much worse than the first. There was a time stamp in the bottom left hand corner.
‘Okay, so we know our guy was seen a couple of blocks from here at 12:35,’ Millar said. ‘We have no idea how long he would have taken in the woods, so let’s just start at the beginning of the recording I guess.’ He grabbed another donut.
They watched the video for an hour at one and a half times normal speed, looking for anyone wearing a dark hooded sweater or for Mrs. Jackson. Finally, at 11:22, they saw what they were looking for, although it was very poor quality. They watched Mrs. Jackson run from behind the convenience store towards the woods, looking over her shoulder as the hooded figure chased her and gained on her. When he was a couple of feet behind her, he raised his right arm and she fell to the ground, stiff as a board. ‘Must be where he tased her,’ Penner said. They watched in silence as the hooded figure grabbed her by the arms and dragged her out of frame, into the woods.
‘Well that’s a bit chilling to watch,’ Grant said, swallowing loudly. ‘At least we know what direction she came from, but I’m not sure what’s over that way. Ideas?’
‘I think there’s a couple of restaurants, maybe a pub or two,’ Millar said. ‘Man, I wish the quality was better in this video. When they first run into the shot you can almost see his face, but its just way too fuzzy.’ He slammed his hand down in frustration. ‘We’ve got to try and get these cleaned up.’
‘Agreed,’ said Penner, ‘But let’s work with what we’ve got. The killer had to meet Mrs. Jackson somewhere, and at least now we have a better idea of where. Her husband did say it was her dart night, but that was over on Daly Avenue. Bit of a hike from the convenience store, isn’t it?’ Penner asked.
‘Maybe four blocks or so, not too bad,’ said Millar.
‘So, what now?’ Grant asked. ‘Do we release a description of who we’re looking for?’
‘It’s too early. Without any identifying characteristics, if we say we’re looking for a big guy wearing dark clothes and a hooded sweater we’ll get more leads than we can possibly handle. We need something else to go on.’ Millar said.
‘Well, before we forget about what else happened last night, someone still needs to go notify the next of kin of Mrs. Brenner, our latest victim,’ Penner said. Both she and Millar looked at Grant.
‘What, me?’ Grant asked. Silence followed. ‘Fine, I’ll do it.’
‘Excellent. Thanks for volunteering,’ Millar said.
‘I think I was kinda voluntold,’ Grant muttered.
‘Millar, if you want, you can go see Faye when she does the autopsy. Find out whether or not she’ll confirm that the cause of death and weapon are the same. And see if our killer left a clue this time,’ Penner said. Millar looked thrilled.
‘And what are you going to do?’ asked Millar, already knowing the answer.
‘Well, someone should probably go to the pub where Mrs. Jackson was playing darts. See if anyone remembers seeing a guy in a dark hoody lurking around,’ Penner said. ‘I may need to hang out for a while. You know, if there’s a shift change or something.’
‘Switching from coffee to beer now?’ asked Millar.
‘Always a good balance of liquids, my friend.’ Penner patted Millar on the shoulder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Grant got back to the precinct around noon, after informing Mrs. Brenner’s husband, teenage daughter and two young sons of her death. As he had expected, it had been incredibly difficult and he was exhausted. He was glad he had taken one of the victim support workers with him. The Brenners had been shocked and overcome with grief. No one expected a loved one to go out in the evening and never come home again. Especially as a result of someone else’s evil decision to take a life. Grant had learned that Mrs. Brenner had been out for her cousin’s baby shower with her sister and a group of about ten friends. She had been expected home around midnight, but when she was late, Mr. Brenner just figured she’d had a few drinks and stayed over at her sister’s place. Apparently it wasn’t uncommon for them to have several drinks when they got together, so he really hadn’t thought anything of it. Grant had also confirmed that their fourteen-year old daughter, Kayla, was, indeed, a wrestler with her school. It wasn’t the first death notification Grant had attended, but it may have been the toughest. The two younger boys were only eight and ten. Kids just didn’t process information the same way adults did.
He walked down the hall to the major crimes unit to see if either Penner or Millar were in their offices, but neither were, so he guessed he could fill them in on his notes later. Next, he went up to the lab to see if the computer was free. He had some more research he wanted to do—there were a few things about the case that were bugging him. Another officer was just finishing up with the computer, so Grant flipped through his notes while he was waiting, trying to make the pieces fit together. He was so lost in his thoughts, he was surprised when the other officer stood up and said, ‘It’s all yours.’ He sat down at the computer and logged in.
‘Right, so why dump bodies at different statues around town,’ he wondered. Maybe it was some deranged artist’s attempt at getting famous with shock art. He did a search for different artists in town that were known for more out-there art pieces. ‘Wow, that many?’ he thought, finding a website that listed sixty-five names. He started clicking on each name, bringing up the artist’s bio and photo, quickly looking to see if any were around the size of the person in the video. When he got to the end of the list, he was left with two names of rather big, large-framed guys. He did another search of each artist to see what type of art they did. Both of them were painters of pretty strange disturbing images. ‘Maybe one of them is branching out,’ he thought. It was a bit of a long shot, but he wrote down their names in his book anyway.
Not convinced, his next thought was that maybe the same artist might have made each of the statues and was pointing to himself in a strange, twisted game. He started with the Terry Fox statue. He wrote the date created and the name of the artist in his book. Next he searched for the Archer sculpture. He was able to find lots of pictures but not a lot of information on it. He couldn’t even find the name of the artist or the date it was created. Nothing. He found good close-up photos of both the Archer itself, and the deer he was hunting. Opening the photos in a separate browser, he zoomed in the best he could to see if he could make out a signature or anything. No luck. He figured he had wasted enough time on that one, so he started searching the last of the three sculptures, Big Ben. At first, his search results were just pictures of the clock in England. He changed his keywords to ‘Big Ben Horse Sculpture’ and hit enter
. ‘That’s better,’ he said. He scrolled down and chose a page that looked like it would give details about the sculpture. He scanned the page and found the artist’s information. ‘Different artist. Now what?’ he said, disappointed. As he thought about what to look for next, he read more about Big Ben, not knowing too much of his history. Part way down the page he read something that made him stop in his tracks. ‘That’s a weird coincidence.’ He closed the web browser and logged into the Police Home Address Search application, and typed a name in the search bar. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He scribbled the address in his notebook—he needed to find Penner.
* * *
As Penner pulled into the parking lot behind the Bird and the Badger pub, her phone rang. She quickly parked and answered. It was forensics informing her that they had finished collecting the blood samples from the sidewalk and the park and had started their preliminary testing. They were able to confirm that the blood was human, but it would take a day or two to compare it to the blood of Mrs. Jackson. Things were understandably a bit backed up in the lab. She ended the call and sat in her car, looking at the exterior of the pub. It was nice. It had a Tudor touch and reminded Penner of the pubs she had seen while backpacking through England after university. She got out of her car and walked inside.
It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim interior. Inside the pub, she saw a couple of guys sitting at a long, L-shaped wooden bar and a few other patrons sitting around a stone fireplace in the lounge area. In the back of the pub was a wall with four dart boards. ‘Must be where dart night takes place,’ she thought, pulling up a stool at the bar.
‘What can I get ya, luv?’ the barmaid asked, putting a napkin and coaster down in front of Penner.
Penner looked at the beer taps. ‘I’ll get a Hobgoblin, please. Full pint.’
‘Good choice,’ the barmaid said, grabbing a glass and starting to pull the beer. ‘First time here? Haven’t seen you around.’
‘Yeah,’ said Penner. ‘Nice place.’
‘Cheers,’ said the barmaid, putting the beer down on the coaster. ‘Pay as you go or running a tab?’
‘I should probably pay up. I’m actually working,’ Penner said, discreetly showing her badge.
‘Right, no worries. Six bucks.’
Penner gave her a ten-dollar bill. ‘Were you working the other evening during dart night, by any chance?’ she asked, picking up her change from the bar.
‘I was actually. We usually rotate day and night shifts. It’s hard on the system, but kind of evens out the tips. Don’t make as much during the day as at night.’
Penner wasn’t sure if that was a hint or not. She put her change back down on the bar top. ‘The other night, did you notice anything or anyone you thought was suspicious?’
‘Nothing out of the ordinary. We have a lot of regular customers, so any one new usually stands out,’ the barmaid said, sliding the change into her apron pocket. ‘There were the usual teams playing darts. A table of drunk college boys—they’re usually in here once or twice a week. A couple of younger people who were studying and having a late dinner. Just the usual crowd.’
‘Don’t suppose you happened to notice anyone wearing a hooded sweater?’ Penner asked, sipping her beer.
‘Hon, my memory is good, but it ain’t that good. Unless you’re a big tipper, I’m not going to remember much about you. I remember my regulars and that’s about it,’ the barmaid said, wiping down the bar top. ‘Excuse me for just one minute.’ She moved to the end of the bar to serve one of the guys sitting there. Looked like he had already had a couple. Penner continued drinking her beer and was startled when someone pulled out the barstool next to her and sat down.
‘Grant? What are you doing here?’
‘I have something I need to show you,’ Grant said, as the barmaid came back to their end of the bar.
‘What’cha drinking, hon?’ the barmaid asked, putting down another coaster and napkin.
Grant saw Penner was having a beer so he figured it was fair game, even though he didn’t like drinking while on duty. ‘Same as her please, but just a half.’
‘Sure thing. That’ll be four-fifty,’ the barmaid said, pulling his beer.
Grant put five dollars on the bar top. ‘Mind if we move to one of the tables?’
‘No worries.’ The barmaid put down the beer and scooped up the money in one fluid motion.
‘So, what’s going on?’ asked Penner as they moved to one of the tables in front of the fire.
‘I was doing some research on the cases and, well, I found some stuff.’ Grant said. He seemed nervous.
‘That’s good,’ Penner said. ‘So, what did you find?’
‘Well, it has to do with the statues. I may have figured out why the killer dumped the bodies where he did.’ Grant took a big chug of his beer.
‘Really? What is it?’ Penner said excitedly.
‘I don’t know if you’re gonna like it, ma-am,’ said Grant, taking out his notebook. On one of the last pages he had made several notes with certain words underlined.
Penner looked at the page, then looked up at Grant. ‘I…uh…wha…?’
‘I know, that’s how I felt too.’ Grant finished his beer. ‘It can’t be a coincidence, can it?’
Penner looked back at the page again. She was dumbfounded. ‘How did we miss this?’ she said.
‘Why would we have been looking for it?’ Grant said. ‘So, now what do we do?’
Penner was silent. She took a long sip of her beer and said, thoughtfully, ‘I think we need to see the Captain. I don’t know what to do with this.’
* * *
When Millar finally arrived at the coroner’s office, Faye was well on her way with the autopsy of Mrs. Brenner. ‘Oh, how lucky,’ Faye said seeing Millar walk in. ‘Where are the others?’
‘Just me today. I got the short straw in the draw,’ Millar said putting on his mask. ‘Anything interesting with this one?’
‘Not really,’ said Faye, standing back from the body and lifting her glasses onto her forehead. ‘I examined the wound—same placement and dimensions as the other two victims from earlier in the week. Nothing else out of the norm with her. I didn’t see any other marks at all. Really, very clean.’
‘No defensive wounds again?’ Millar asked, bending over to look at the body’s hands. A hair fell off of his shirt.
‘Try not to shed on my body, would you?’ Faye said, putting her glasses back on and finding the hair. She picked it up and dropped it in the garbage. ‘I’m sure you don’t want to be considered a suspect because you left your DNA on a body during the autopsy. No, no defensive wounds, no hairs, other than yours. No clues at all. We did check her blood for drugs and alcohol. No drugs but there was alcohol present. 0.06, so based on her small frame, she probably had a drink, maybe two, but that’s it. Under the legal limit.’
‘So, three victims in the same week. All three basically the same build and weight. Three almost identical injuries. Three similar dump sites and that’s it,’ Millar said. ‘I was really hoping you would have had a smoking gun this time.’
‘If it was a gun, at least you could have compared the bullets,’ said Faye.
‘Yeah, that would have been easier,’ Millar said taking off his mask. ‘Always a pleasure.’
‘Yeah, real pleasure,’ Faye said as Millar walked to the door. ‘Do me a favour, try not to have me called again tonight, okay?’
‘You know you’d miss me,’ said Millar, as the door closed behind him.
* * *
Penner and Grant met up back at the precinct and went straight to the Captain’s office. ‘Right, you found this, you can do the talking,’ said Penner, as they stood outside his door. ‘I’ll be there with you. But, for the record, I really don’t like this.’
‘You don’t like it! How do you think I feel? Earlier this week I was just a beat cop minding my own business, now I’m going to see the Captain about one of the biggest cases this precinct h
as had in years, and I’m going to tell him something I am sure he doesn’t want to hear.’ Grant was starting to sweat. He took a deep breath and knocked on the Captain’s door.
‘Come in!’ the Captain called out. Penner and Grant entered, closing the door behind them. ‘Ah, Detective Penner.’ The Captain looked up from his paperwork. ‘And Constable Grant, correct? I’ve heard good things about you. Sounds like you’re doing a good job helping out Penner here.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Grant said nervously.
‘So, what can I do for you two?’ the Captain asked.
Grant glanced over at Penner, who nodded and then looked away. ‘Well, sir, it’s about the recent murders in town,’ Grant said. ‘I came across something, well, troubling, and Detective Penner and I need some advice on how to proceed.’
The Captain looked at Detective Penner. ‘Really? How troubling?’
‘Well, sir,’ Penner said, ‘If it’s not a coincidence, and I hope to God it is, then it’s bad.’
The Captain put his pen down and gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. ‘Sit.’ Penner and Grant pulled up the chairs and sat down. ‘So, what’s going on?’
‘Well, I was doing some research, trying to figure out why our murderer might be placing the bodies by the different statues around town. I figured there had to be a connection,’ Grant said, taking out his notebook.
‘And did you find one?’ the Captain asked.
‘I think so, sir,’ Grant said, turning the book around so the Captain could read what was written.
‘Is this a joke?’ he asked staring up at Penner.
‘I’m afraid not, sir.’ Penner said. ‘Like I said, it could be a coincidence, but, I really don’t know.’
‘Have you looked into timeframes? Alibis?’ the Captain asked.
‘We’re starting to, sir, but it’s not looking good,’ Grant said. He didn’t like this at all.
‘Do you have anything other than this?’ the Captain asked. ‘Any concrete evidence at all? Fingerprints, DNA?’
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